


Touch me

by Arzani



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bartenders, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Flint/Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: “Have you found someone for Saturday?”[...]“I will just announce there’s no show early on. One day won’t kill us.”“I can dance.”James whipped his head around and the bottle of whiskey he held nearly slipped from his fingers. Thankfully John had good reflexes and steadied it.--------------A bartender/stripper AU no one asked for (except Ellelan) but you got anyway





	Touch me

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna get the feels right just listen to Samantha Fox's "[Touch me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1btg3mpEOc)". Cause it was very relevant for this fic.  
> Also thank you so much to memeromantikan for doing the most [amazing artwork](https://memeromatikan.tumblr.com/post/174667781999/a-silverflintbigbang-fic-illustration-for) on this collabaration. I could stare at it forever and I hope you can, too.

For the third time this day James’ hand brushed John’s over the work space, as they both reached for a juice the respective other had just used. It made him wonder if it finally had come to it that they were creating the same variation of a new cocktail without looking. Because peeking glances at the other’s cocktail wasn’t allowed. At all. Too often had they criticized that this juice didn’t go well with that one, and this liquor would not mix well with that kind of alcohol just to be surprised by the end-result. John was as equally good a bartender as James was, it had just taken a while to accept it. Or well, James had needed time to get over his loss, the rage and frustration. And John had been a big help. The biggest help if he was honest with himself.

It was five years ago Thomas had died, and James could finally think of his deceased husband without being in need to smash something or fall down crying. Now happy memories came to his mind when he thought of Thomas’ bright smile and the crinkling sky-like eyes. Therapy had helped, but much more John, who had started to work at the bar about half a year after Thomas’ death. James had known he wouldn’t be able to handle the work alone. Not so soon. He had always worked behind the bar, but a tear-streaked face was not what people wanted to see when coming for a drink. Yet, keeping the Rainbow closed for longer would have meant ruining it. Which was a thought even more unbearable. It had been both Thomas’ and his dream, their little safe haven. So he had hired John and had kept to his books until he had been ready to face customers again.

In the beginning James had believed John wouldn’t make it through the first two months. But he was charming, and the customers loved him. Not to mention he was good-looking. Which always helped. James could admit that. He could admit that without thinking of John’s infuriating curly curls which kept falling in his face, or his damning blue eyes that seem to sparkle like the ocean, whenever the light hit them in a peculiar angle. He had an easy smile, and a big mouth that never stopped talking. James could admit to all of it because John had easily become his best friend over the years and best friends knew the quality traits of each other.

With a side glance he caught John’s busy hands moving over the bottles, picking a Cuban rum to add to his cocktail, before he started to shake it. James saw the muscles of his arms bulge, stretching the rolled up white sleeve of his shirt, and decided it to be better to keep on working on his own drink. A second longer and he would have seen John’s smirk, but instead he chose a honey-flavored whiskey for his own cocktail creation.

It was Tuesday midday. The Rainbow was still closed, the only people inside the bar John and him. It had become a tradition for them to meet earlier on Tuesdays and try new creations before opening. While shaking his own cocktail, James swept the room with his eyes. After all those years he still loved the place with its cushioned stools and benches, the little wooden tables and its wooden walls. In the back of the bar hung a huge mirror, bottles after bottles and many more glasses lining up in front of it. In the far corner was a small stage for their dancers and the ceiling was decorated with different flags. One big rainbow one and smaller pride flags of each sexuality James could think of. They were, after all, a gay bar. Not that straight people weren’t allowed to come. They mostly just didn’t find their way into the Rainbow.

“Hey old man, I’m quite sure this has seen enough shaking,” a voice reached his ear and James realized he’d been lost in thought. Next to him John grinned mischievously, pushing his own finished cocktail towards him. Realizing John to be right, James filled a glass with ice and poured his own beverage into it. It was a peach maracuja mix with a shot of Blue Curacao to color the cocktail in a fascinating color gradient from blue to green to yellow. A piece of orange and pineapple finished it into a piece of art.

“I’m not old.” James’ answer came late and had no bite in it. John switched their cocktail glasses and shrugged.

“You’re older than me.”

Which was true. James was older than John, seven years to be precise. But it had never felt like an obstacle between them. Or that it made them different. Well, only that John occasionally went home with a good-looking customer while James refused to look at anyone. But who to look at, honestly, when he still conjured Thomas’ image in front of his eye to compare?

His eyes flitted sideways, taking in the lean body, the man-bun, the black and white clothes they used to wearing behind the counter and the Thomas in his head smiled. Traitor.

Better inspect the cocktail John had been making. It seemed to be a fruity one, as well, with a red syrup, as its color went from a deep red to a light yellow. Honestly though, James wasn’t too surprised. They had used the same juices. When he tried it, he could taste maracuja and peach, as well, a hint of strawberry – which must be the syrup – and a good shot of the rum John had used. It was… tasty. Fruity. Something people would like. Something very similar to what he had created.

“Did we use the same – Oh.” John had started to voice James’ thoughts when the back door opened and a head full of brown hair peaked inside the room from the doorframe leading to the stage. “Nico.”

“What are you doing here already?” James added confused, waving the much younger man in. Nico was one member of their service team, in his early twenties and just out of university. He had started working for James sometime during his first semester at the local university and was now, after almost four years, still one of their best service members.

As he walked towards the bar, James had time to eye Nico. He had brown hair, falling a little over his eyes. Those had a soft brown hue too, almost like hazelnut. He was tall, muscled – he played in a basketball team – but soft to the core. A good lad, very polite and mannered. James had liked him instantly. As had John.

“Hi Boss, John.” With a little nervous grin, he sat on one of the bar stools, and almost simultaneously John and James placed the remaining of their cocktails in front of him. It was always good to have a third opinion. They watched him try first James’ cocktail, then John’s. His brow furrowed a little in confusion. “Did you agree to certain juices only beforehand?”

“No,” John answered truthfully and looked at James, confused. It was his time to shrug. Seemed like they had used to exact same beverages except for the syrup and the main alcohol.

Nico grinned. “You can sell them as a twin option. For friends only, or for lovers.”

James snorted at that, suppressing the flush that threatened to creep up his neck. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see a soft red shimmer around John’s nose, too. Good. So not only he thought it to be a ridiculous idea. “Don’t be silly. Who comes to a strip club with their lover?”

Nico was, next to being in their service team, also one of their dancers. The idea had started long ago as a joke between Thomas and him. Like most drunken ideas it had run out of hand. Now each Saturday there was a strip show, but only containing male dancers, because James wanted to keep lecherous old man oogling young women out of his bar. Nico enjoyed it obviously, because he had leapt at the chance of the extra money. He was good, not to mention. The boy had a way to move his body that was completely his own.

“Well I heard there was a time you did.” John nudged him in the side and this time James couldn’t keep the flush out of his face. He scowled but did nothing to correct the statement. John was right. He had gone with Thomas to a strip show. The drunken idea had had to come from somewhere.

“I’ll consider it,” he murmured while he reached for John’s cocktail and took another sip, then grimaced. It was good. It really was. He should put it on card. He pushed the glass back to Nico. “But you’re not this early just to try cocktails, aren’t you?”

Nico flinched at the words, his forehead wrinkling, and he ducked his head sheepishly. The way he played with a golden armband around his wrist – a gift from his boyfriend, James knew – revealed how young he was. “I can’t work Saturday.”

“Oh.” James was more surprised than anything. If not ill, Nico was the most reliable twenty-three-years-old he’d ever met. “Do tell.”

It was a nervous gesture how Nico reached for the cocktail glass James had offered and wrapped his fingers around it. Meanwhile John had started to sip at the other one. It was almost empty. James snatched it out of his hand, to at least have a small sip of his own creation. Their fingers brushed when John gave it over with a pout, but Nico seemed to relax under the display before him. He smiled.

“I’m invited to an assessment center at Nassau Inc.” Pride was in his voice and he had any reason to be proud. Nassau Inc. was one of the biggest companies in their humble city and if Nico got a job there he would earn good money. Even fresh from university. “But when I asked how long it’s supposed to take they told me to plan the whole day. I have no idea what to expect but I doubt I’m done till the shift starts.”

“But that is good news. No need to be shy about it. Our Nico finally makes a career,” John laughed, and James had to agree. He had always expected the day to come when Nico would move to a – at least for him – real job. He had studied after all. The least people who studied found their purpose in the local gay bar.

“John is right. Focus on the assessment center and don’t worry about the shift. I find someone to cover for you.”

“I worry more about the dancing,” Nico mumbled into his glass. His head had suddenly turned the color of a tomato. It made John laugh outright. He even tousled Nico’s hair.

“Our baby boy enjoys being on stage.”

“Don’t tease him, John,” Flint scolded, but only playfully. He grinned into his beard himself, an elbow on the counter, chin in hand. “What are you flushing all over, actually? You dance since three years now and very good so.”

If possible, Nico flushed even harder. “I know, I’m just not used talking about it.”

This time James joined John’s laughter. The world was a very ridiculous, very wonderful place.

* * *

The evening went smooth and James even found time to phone around to find cover for Nico. With his second call he had Anica, another student who had started roughly a year ago, promise him to change her Sunday shift with Nico’s Saturday one. It was one problem solved, but Anica wasn’t a dancer and his regular ones had already planned something else for Saturday. While Jim had promised to come if James found no one else, it had been clearly audible in his voice that actually he had other things planned. If James had to guess, he’d say Jim had a date.

Retying his long hair into a pony-tail while walking back in, James felt John’s gaze on his back. But only after he had washed his hands, he turned to face his friend.

“No luck?” John asked, and James shook his head. Then he nodded at a man who approached the bar. Soundlessly John formed “We’ll talk in a moment.” before he slipped on his most charming smile and served the customer. Another moment later James himself was occupied with two young ladies ordering strawberry margaritas. He didn’t even need to think about what to do. After finishing the margaritas, he already started to mix a drink for a regular he saw stepping in. The night went on like this, in a calm, easy way. Tuesdays were his relaxing days. Mondays the Rainbow was closed.

It was somewhat after midnight when the last guests left and just before one o’clock when Nico waved his good-bye and James was alone with John. There wasn’t much cleaning to do, and he always enjoyed those few minutes with John, to talk about the day. Propping himself with his back against the counter, James sighed tiredly. John filled two glasses with water and offered one to James who took it gladly.

“Did you find someone for Saturday?”

“No, unfortunately not. I asked Jim, who –,” James started but John interrupted him, his tone incredulous.

“You asked Jim? He’s babbling about this date he has since ages.” Well after the phone call James had remembered something like this had been mentioned, too. He shrugged, and John groaned. “He didn’t offer to come, did he? How do you manage to find such good lads all the time?”

“Well, I never make the same mistake twice,” he answered and hid the oncoming smirk by taking a sip. It took a while for John to register the innuendo and pout.

“You’re a shit.”

James graced John’s pout with a silent grin until the other threw a piece of washcloth at him. With ease he avoided it and it fell on the counter, making a wet sound. Suddenly both started to laugh.

It was a liberating feeling to laugh like this. After Thomas’ death James had been unable to feel anything other than painful anger or dulling numbness. He had almost forgotten what it meant to laugh with all his heart. But John had coaxed it out if him until James’ chest had ached. Slowly he had opened up about his past with his husband. About their marriage and how Thomas’ father had disinherited him. Thomas had only been paid the statutory share, which was still a lot of money considering. It had been enough money to buy this place, their place, and James had loved every second of the hard work they had to put into it. They had done a lot of stupid things, learning slowly and often the hard way. Yet, James was proud of what had come out of it, now after almost ten years. He realized he was running the Rainbow almost as long without Thomas than he had with him. He run it almost as long with John than he had with Thomas.

His eyes became soft, his laughter reverberating in the silent room while he watched John leaning against the solid counter at the opposite site of him. Without him, James wouldn’t know where he stood now. John had been his life line, still was. His chest ached bittersweetly, watching him, John, watching the familiar features he held so dear.

“Thank you for being with me, John.”

The words lingered in the space between them, until John pushed himself off from the counter to lean forward. James watched him move. He didn’t move himself when John smiled back at him and came closer. Their eyes met, and time seemed to stand still. It was only John and him, him and John. His heart beat louder, wanting to break out of his ribcage. But before James’ thoughts could run away with him, John brushed a loose strand out of his face.

“Thank you for having me.”

Not for the first time James wondered what would happen if he crossed that little remaining distance between them. A part of him wanted it so much it hurt. But he wasn’t bold enough, never had been. It had always been Thomas who had been the bold one.

* * *

Thursday had seldom been so busy as today. James and John had to make one Caipirinha after another, because they had a twenty-people hen’s party in the house. Of which James still wondered what the point was, as both brides seemed to be around. Not that he not enjoyed seeing a couple as happy as the two ladies seemed, laughing and drinking continuously. They even had asked to use the stage and attached pole. Of course, he had allowed it, no one minded anyway. Most men inside the Rainbow didn’t bother, as gay men didn’t tend to bother with the female party in general, and there weren’t any other women around. Or if, they had been included into the hen’s night.

“I think we’re running out of sugar if they keep this up,” John piqued in while squeezing out some limes. James, who opened the third bottle of Cachaça this night, just snorted. “I bought new one yesterday. It’s in the back.”

“I’ll get it,” John said before he vanished behind the door. James took over his glasses, filling those who already had limes and sugar in it with his mixed beverage. Four done, five more to go. It was the fourth round, and in between they had to care for the rest of the customers. He had not enough personal for such a night. He hadn’t expected the group, they had told him the actual bar they had rented had kicked them out when realizing it to be a lesbian hen’s party. There was no chance in heaven he would have them leave again.

Waving Anica over, he placed the few finished cocktails onto her tray and send her on her way. Turning, he saw John maneuvering out of the back, arms full of a box of limes, sugar and a new package of straws. Holding open the door, he smiled down at him.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me when the night is over.”

It hadn’t been said brusquely but something was still off. Looking closer James saw dark rings under John’s eyes. He hadn’t slept, James realized. Either only a few hours or – more likely – not at all. With a sigh he turned to the coffee machine and started to make an espresso. Had the day been slower he may have sent John home, but today it was impossible.

“You could have called me, you know,” James said lightly, while attaching the scoop to the coffee machine, then pressing the button for a double espresso.

“Called you for what? Why are you making a coffee?” John asked, while James’ nostrils filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He loved that smell. Placing the small cup in front of John, he snatched a lime out of his hand.

“For you, of course. Did you have a nightmare again?”

For a moment John looked like he wanted to protest, then he sighed and poured some sugar on a spoon and mixed it into the brown brew. Another one followed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, considered the empty spoon and then, with a shrug, filled it for a third time. James frowned but didn’t say anything. John likely needed the sugary shock.

Placing a hand on John’s shoulder and brushing the tips of his fingers over his neck, James murmured, “You can always wake me. I hope you know that.”

John looked sideways, smiled and then hit back the cup. “It wasn’t that bad,” he added, which James knew to be a lie, but he didn’t press. Instead he turned to Anica who came back, tray empty but with wide, almost horrified eyes.

“They want forty vodka shots,” she said over the counter and James groaned. John, who had listened, already reached under the counter. In each hand he procured four shot glasses, placing them carefully on Anica’s tray.

Immediately James started to help, taking another tray. Forty shots wouldn’t fit on one tray only, anyway. He ushered the girl to take the time tending to the rest of the guests. It would be a long night.

“Do you want me to come over tonight?” James picked up the conversation as if it never had been interrupted. John seem to contemplate the offer for a moment, then shook his head.

“I will be fine,” he said but when James gave him a stern look, he added, “I promise I call if the nightmare comes back.”

Which was enough. James knew pressing John didn’t help anything. The man hadn’t had the easiest childhood. His mother had been raped by his father, then after the man had almost killed her, John had to go to a children’s home. There were parts of John’s childhood James had no idea about, and even so much had been revealed to him through a lot of stories and by bits and pieces. In the beginning it had been hard for John to open up, but after James had revealed a lot about himself and his loss, John had opened up, too. More often than not James had driven to John’s in the middle of the night. Luckily, they only lived ten minutes apart by car.

They worked in silence for a while, finishing up the shots and then another few caipirinhas, which Anica picked up just in time to tell them another round of orders from the rest of the guests. At least it was a variation to the endlessness of limes and brown sugar. Then, out of a sudden, John turned to James.

“Have you found someone for Saturday?”

James shook his head. He had phoned another few people, even some long out of business, but it was too short coming for all of them. Which he understood. He had contemplated going on stage himself but dismissed the idea immediately. He just couldn’t do that without Thomas. They had done it by themselves in their earlier years. Thomas more than him, but he himself had also stripped a few times and he knew he still had it in him. But without Thomas... It just felt false.

“I will just announce there’s no show early on. One day won’t kill us.”

“I can dance.”

James whipped his head around and the bottle of whiskey he held nearly slipped from his fingers. Thankfully John had good reflexes and steadied it.

“Careful.”

“You’re kidding, are you?” James asked, voice incredulous. John had never danced before, had never voiced the desire to do so, nor had James asked him to. Not that he doubted people would love it. Hell, John was beautiful and the thought alone to see him strip send a shudder through his body that was… that was… fuck, that made his heart beat faster and uncontrollably.

For the first time in a long while John seemed sheepish and even turned away to not look at him. He started to prepare James’ drink, but James knew it was to deflect his nerves from showing. John kept the bottle of whiskey James had been holding in hand and snatched the half-filled shaker. When he spoke, he looked at his hands, even though he could make the cocktail without looking. James knew, because he had seen John do it.

“I’m actually quite serious. I thought it might be fun and it’s better than cancelling the show,” John admitted. James still looked at him, his brows furrowed, before he slowly turned to prepare another order. Of course, John used the busiest time to discuss the topic. Of course, he used it as an excuse to not look at him.

Thousands of arguments run through James’ mind why it wasn’t working, why John just couldn’t fill Nico’s place. One, before and after the show it was the busiest time behind the bar and James allowed his dancers a half an hour break before and after the show. But Anica was perfectly capable of handling that. She was a good bartender herself. Not to mention people would storm the bar. He just knew, because it had been the case back in the day when he had danced and then stepped behind the counter. The idea of John going home with someone after such a night… but that was just his own jealousy speaking. He didn’t own the man. They were friends and that was that. James had to remind himself that John was allowed to have a sex-life. Even though he hadn’t really had anything going on since he had broken up with Madi a good year ago.

“James?” John asked and there was something in his voice that made James’ stomach clench. It was the voice John only used when he was afraid. Whenever James heard that tone, he wanted to wrap his arms around John and hold him tight. He rarely really did it. Not in public anyway. But it made him sigh, while his hands shook lightly. He could see it in the swooshing of the liquor he held.

“If you really want to… of course you’re allowed. I just never thought…”

He stuttered. Heaven, he really stuttered. Shaking his head, he placed the bottle aside and looked deeply into John’s eyes. They were the deepest shade of blue he had ever seen. Would he ever get over those eyes?

“Are you sure?”

John held his gaze and without missing a beat he answered with a “Yes.” When James couldn’t detect any lie he exhaled, not having realized he had hold his breath. Unintentionally his right hand shot out and brushed a loose curl back behind John’s ear.

“Then the stage is yours.”

He felt John lean into the touch, only briefly, before James pulled his hand back. Then they were both back to working, as if this conversation had never happened. The evening was too busy to allow anything else. But a knot had formed in James’ chest that didn’t want to leave for the rest of the week.

* * *

It was crowded. The bar always was packed on Saturdays but today James had a feeling every last space was filled. He even spotted people sitting on each other’s laps to be able to sit down. It was ridiculous. Weren’t he so occupied with mixing drinks he might have gotten nervous by now. But there was no time for that. John seemed to be at ease, as well, because his movements were sure and steady as he worked next to James.

In the morning he had told his staff that John would dance today and in the next breath that he didn’t want any gossip about it. With a few exceptions – there were always exceptions – they had stuck to his words. None of them had bothered John about his decision and weren’t it for the small lump in James’ throat this might just be another regular crazy Saturday.

It wasn’t though. He knew deep in his bones that something would happen tonight, and James could mostly relay on his gut feeling. At quarter past eight – the show usually started at nine – he told Anica to make her last rounds and then help him behind the bar. She nodded, her long brown ponytail swiping from left to right, and off she was.

Of course, John had seen the encounter, and brushed James’ shoulder with his own as he leaned over to reach for the lime juice. “I don’t need the break,” he mumbled but James only snorted.

“That’s non-negotiable.” His answer was rougher than he had wanted to, and he softened it with a remorseful expression. It flitted over his face, he knew, because John smiled. Lightly shook his head as if to tell him he didn’t mind. Knew how James meant it. Obviously, he did.

“You’ll be watching, will you?” he asked after a moment and James chuckled, shook his mixer twice before filling the Tequila Sunrise into a glass. His gaze took in the soft lines around John’s eyes and his broad shoulders as he was working on a drink himself. His stomach churned, and he wished the bar was empty, just for a moment, so he could draw John close and do… something to ease his mind.

“I will be right here.”

As if he could be somewhere else, when John was on stage to do a striptease. As if he had the strength.

James was graced with a smirk and then Anica came up, her sleeves rolled up, tray in hand. She placed the empty glasses on the counter, before she slipped through the small opening. Without needing instructions, she worked on the empty glasses she had brought, while pushing John firmly aside.

“Ready for your big show, Johnny-Boy?” she asked with her bell-like voice. There always was a sing-song in it when she spoke, which James enjoyed immensely. Anica was a gift for the bar and he was glad she was studying to become a teacher. It took a little longer than some regular studies. More time to work for him.

“Always ready,” he answered promptly, letting her take over. “Don’t mess up my drinks.”

“Never.” She even winked. John blew her a kiss before he vanished through the back door.

“Thank you for taking over,” James said.

He tried to show his appreciation towards his employees as often as he could. After Thomas’ death he had had been moody and short-tongued, but thankfully John had forced some manners into him. Because James mostly employed students, there was none left who could remember him as the grumpy ass from back then. Well no one other than John, obviously.

“Don’t worry, Boss. Have to tone my bartending skills anyway,” she replied, and James grinned. His hands flew over the bottles as new orders came in.

“If you decide the kids these days are too much a handful you’re very welcome to stay.”

It made Anica laugh. Her brown eyes crinkled, and she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer. Gonna remember that.”

* * *

Five minutes to nine the light dimmed, and people started to murmur. Somewhere at the side James spotted Mark giving him a thumps up. He was a regular who had an affinity to electronics and the technical side of things. Since a while now he created a small light show for their dancers, wanting nothing other than his favorite cocktail as compensation. He always said he’d miss something without one of the boys dancing.

John must have told him what song he liked, because James had no idea to what music John intended to dance to, or how he was going to be dressed. The questions had bothered him all week, but just like he expected from his staff, he himself had bit back his curiosity. It was not his place and he trusted John to make good on it. Honestly, James couldn’t think of John as anything other than smoking hot when sinuously removing his clothes. He may have day-dreamed about this show a little, which James had tried to fight and lost miserably.

He had to remind himself that John was his friend. He had to remind himself that he wanted John to remain his friend.

When the music started he brushed his hands dry at a tablecloth. James recognized the song immediately. It was _Touch me_ from Samantha Fox. He groaned inwardly and placed his elbows on the counter. There wouldn’t be any more drinks incoming during the performance. People’s minds were elsewhere, which was a good thing. John deserved all the attention.

At the first audible “Touch me” sounding through the room the light turned on, illuminating an empty stage with an empty stool in the middle. A few seconds passed before the door opened and John walked out onto the stage lazily. The sight pushed the remaining breath out of James’ lungs and he felt a collective moment of silence, before people started to whistle and scream. Somewhere next to him Anica had sat herself on the working-space behind their backs to be able to see better. She was relatively small.

John had changed from his bartender clothes into a pair of tight fit jeans, a white button up shirt and a leather jacket. He wore his black leather boots James loved seeing on him. They always gave him a notch of roughness, wildness. With his hair falling open around his shoulders, touching them just slightly, a leather band around his left wrist and a necklace vanishing in the V of his collar he looked undeniably sexy. James wanted to sink his teeth into the collarbone peeking out under the fabric. He scolded himself for the thought but couldn’t get the mental image out of his mind. That was until John started to strip…

John took his time walking up to the stool, circling it with one hand on the back rest. It gave the audience – and James – a good view on his broad back and ass. The jeans hid nothing and honestly there was nothing to hide. James’ throat became parched at the sight. With a smirk John lowered himself onto the stool, his head falling back, his hair cascading down. Gulping became hard. Why hadn’t he gotten himself a glass of water? Not that James intended to move now.

With grace John straightened again, hands in his hair, brushing them back. God, his hair seemed like silk. Those damned curls. All the while Samantha Fox tortured him by urging him, and of course everyone else in the room, on to touch John. Oh, how he wanted to. James’ fingers twitched.

They twitched when John shrugged out of his leather jacket, placing it on the stool. It hung on the back rest like John had just went to the office and wasn’t fucking stripping in front of a good hundred people. The sleeves of his button up were rolled up to his elbows, like usual when he worked behind the counter. His skin seemed tan and smooth in the light. The muscles showed through the white fabric and James could just make out abs. He knew John was well-built, but he had never really noticed until now. Until now, as John raked his hands over his chest to loosen one button after the other until the shirt hung open around his torso.

Why was it so hot in here? And when had the crowed become so loud? The noise buzzed in James’ ears with the music and John. John, John, John, who stood back up, smirking, as he wetted his thump with his lip and then let the digit slide down over his revealed skin. It vanished in the pockets of his jeans, he swirled around and when he turned his head, James had the feeling John gazed directly into his eyes. Even from the distance James could see the blue of them shimmering, felt heat rush into his cheeks. John even had the audacity to wink. He winked, and James wanted to press him against a wall and kiss that wink from his face. But he was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

“He’s good,” James could hear from Anica. He doubted she was aware she had mumbled that out loud and he didn’t grace her with an answer. He was unable to form words, doubted more than a whimper would come out of his mouth. Because she was right. John was good. He was excellent.

But it was more. Nico was a good dancer as well. Jim was. Ben was. But none had coaxed such a reaction from James. He was gay. He enjoyed a man’s body, but he was also a decent enough person and boss to not ogle his staff when they stripped. Why couldn’t he look away now? And from John at all people. John who was his best friend, his confidant and partner?

A voice flitted through his mind, deep and sinuous. “Because you love him.” Thomas’ voice.

With every move John made, James became more aware that his subconscious, in the form of his former husband, was right. He watched enthralled how John pushed the white shirt from his body, let it fall to the floor. His muscles played under his tanned, smooth skin as he turned the stool under his hand, to place a foot on it. Slowly he bent down, giving perfect view of his ass and broad back, to unlace his shoes. First the left one, then the right one. Samantha’s “Touch me” mixed with Thomas’ “You love him” in James’ head. His tongue shot out to wet his dry lips. It didn’t help.

He had fallen for his best friend and he watched him strip. James wished the performance were just for him. He wished to sit on that stool and be allowed to touch. Instead he leaned against the bar, his elbows biting into the counter painfully. His full weight was placed onto them. Yet, it didn’t make it to his brain.

With easy steps John walked to the pole, gripped it with one hand and people whistled. He only wore his trousers now. The light seemed to make his skin gleam. Sweat had formed on his forehead but it didn’t really bother him. Pushing and pulling against the pole, John showed he had perfect control over his body. He turned, slid down the metal with his back, eyes closing for a moment. When he pushed back up, hands over his head, he opened them again. They met James’ over the crowed, held him captive.

Unable to look away or even blink James watched John pull his hands down the pole, through his hair, over his chest until they landed on his hips. His throat was already dry, but when John popped open the button of his jeans it felt like his mouth had become an actual desert. John slowly unzipped his fly, revealing black briefs underneath, the crowed became even louder, drowning out Samantha’s voice. James shifted and realized in horror he was half-hard in his breeches.

Arousal mixed with panic, managed to bring him down to earth and broke the spell John had on him. It was no rational feeling, the panic surging through him. All he realized was that his desire was plainly visible for everyone who took a closer look at him and betraying John’s trust like this was unforgivable. Mumbling an uncoherent “I’m back in a moment” James fled the show and vanished through the back door.

He was an idiot. A bastard who couldn’t keep his feelings and desires in check. With swift almost rushed steps he made his way into his small office and fell into his office chair. His cock pressed uncomfortably against its confines, but James willed the erection down. John was his friend and he was no hormone-driven teenager anymore. What was he even thinking?

Muffled through the walls he heard cheers and whistles, loud, louder than anything before, and James knew the show was over. There were roughly seventy men out there – not counting all the women - having witnessed what James had witnessed. Seventy men that would gladly take John home, James knew. Because John was good-looking, was witty and smart, was charming and loyal. A kind of man everyone was looking for in their lives. James was just a young widow. Nothing to seek out. His hands fell on the desk and he hid his face inside them. Why couldn’t he stop thinking?

The swirl of his thoughts stopped immediately when he heard the door to his office open. The click revealed a person coming in. Only one dared to do so when the door was closed. His office was his sanctum, his safe place when everything was too much. But even a sanctum couldn’t stop an angel from stepping in.

“James?”

His name was spoken like a question and the vulnerability in John’s tone broke something in James. John panted softly, probably still exhausted from his performance. Without looking up, James answered, “What are you doing here? You’ve half an hour break.”

There was silence except for their breathing. It filled the room, filled James’ head. Filled everything around him. He couldn’t look up. Didn’t dare to look up and see those blue eyes regard him questioningly. Accusatory. He had promised to watch, and he had run away.

“I … you,” John spoke into the silence and still, his voice sounded strained, vulnerable. Then: “Was it that bad?”

He jerked his head up like the words had stung him. Before he had time to really take John in he spoke. “Are you kidding me?” His voice hitched at the last word, his hands shaking, when he realized how exactly John had come to him. Jeans back on – had he ever removed them completely? – white shirt around his torso but unbuttoned and with a tantalizing view on his abs. James gulped the lump down his throat, tried not to stare. He failed. He failed miserably. John didn’t even wear his shoes. He was barefoot, sweaty and magnificently beautiful.

“You vanished,” John said lowly and James had to close his eyes. Even behind his lids he saw John’s stature, the way his blue eyes shone with questions and the way his curls clung to his forehead. He was so hopelessly lost.

“I… needed to breath,” James admitted and then opened his eyes again. John still stood under the doorframe, ready to bolt any moment. James wasn’t willing to leave it at that. He nodded at the free stool at the other side of the desk and John took the invitation. Closing the door behind him, he walked over cautiously until he sat. James reached out and was glad when John took his hand. Their fingers interlaced. “You were wonderful. Don’t doubt that.”

John said nothing, just looked at him. His expression hopeful in a way James had never seen before. The silence urged him on to continue talking which he was admittedly not the best at.

“It was just,” he started and didn’t really know what he was trying to say. Maybe that he didn’t know how to deal with so much beauty? That he had suddenly realized he was in love? That he knew Thomas would approve of this love, urge him on to take it and be happy. Because John made him happy. Just like Thomas had, but in a completely different way. “Your performance reminded me of Thomas. Of how it had all started and how happy that makes me.”

It only brushed the truth, but James was unable to properly pronounce the feelings dancing in his stomach. Something heavy dropped into his stomach when he saw John’s hopeful features crumble before him like dry sand.

“Oh.” The edges of John’s lips twitched up to smile, but it was a poor attempt. James felt miserable seeing it. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

He tried to draw his hand away. James felt the movement under his own fingers and it felt like a loss. This was not what he had wanted. It was not what he wanted John to believe he saw in him. Not once in his life had James seen John as a replacement for his husband. They had similar trades, but they were different. They were different people and James just happened to have fallen for both. They were different people he had needed and still needed in his life. John… he needed John to know that. If he didn’t correct this now, he knew something irreparable would break between them. John was too important, too dear to his heart to let that happen.

So, before John could draw away completely and vanish from the room, James took hold of his wrist again. Pressed it down on the wooden oak of his desk and half stood up. He sought John’s gaze, drew close, closer, until they shared the same breath. In this light and from this angle John’s eye color seemed almost white. They were blown wide, lips slightly parted and by god, John was beautiful like this. Everything in James roared at his boldness but it was too late to back down. He didn’t want to back down anymore. His heart didn’t allow him.

“You’re not Thomas. You’re John. My John. If you allow it?”

The question was answered by John surging forward, pressing his lips against James’. The kiss was sloppy, heady and uncomfortable. James’ thighs pressed against the top of the desk, his hand, still laced with John’s, steadied them and his back was bent in a strange angle, half sitting half standing. Still it was the most perfect kiss in his life, full of emotion and new, sweet. His free hand found its way into John’s hair, caressed his neck, drew him closer. Their lips brushed, settled against each other like they had always belong there. Like they had always belonged together.

“I dreamed of this,” John panted into his mouth and James chuckled. In the back of his mind Thomas’ voice laughed before it vanished and all that remained was the urge to kiss John again. Stepping around the desk without letting go of John’s hand, James settled on his lap. Found his lips again and this time their kiss was languid, drawn out to explore everything of their mouths. Their tongues brushed over their teeth, they nipped at each other’s lips, let the other in. James fingers brushed over John’s throat, down towards his collarbone, snuck under the fabric. He wanted so much more of this wonderful man under him.

A moan bubbled up and for a moment James wondered whose it had been. He then decided it didn’t matter. Kissing was more important. They could talk later. They needed to talk later. Later.

“Boss?”

The voice flitted through the door and with a groan James drew back. Shit. He had forgotten that there were still a hundred people out there, wanting to be served. Anica’s voice sounded strained. She probably was going under with all the cocktail orders.

“I’m back in a second,” he called back. Looking down at John, who whimpered at the words, didn’t make it easy to remove himself from the embrace. His lips were kiss-swollen, he clung to James’ back like it was a life-line and his hair was tousled. It was a sight James would not so easily forget. He didn’t want to forget it.

“You’re beautiful,” James breathed into John’s mouth and then extricated himself from the limbs that held him close. “and I want to kiss you senseless, but we have to keep that for later.”

“I can help,” John offered, wanting to stand up again but James pressed him back down into the stool, giving him a kiss on his forehead. He smiled when he looked into John’s eyes.

“In half an hour.”

He pressed another kiss on John’s lips, then he made his way to the door swiftly. If he didn’t go now he likely never would and that wouldn’t be fair to Anica. The poor girl had to deal with all their thirsty guests outside. Before he could vanish through the door, though, John’s voice held him back. It was like a caress over his soul.

“You’re not running away, do you?”

When he turned and looked at John’s lithe form on the stool, skin gleaming, hands trembling, mouth open and eyes searching, James tried to convey his sincerity with every spoken word. “I’m only running towards you. I promise.”

He knew John believed him, cause the trembling of his hands receded. Then James was gone and all that what was left was the memory of John’s lips on his.

* * *

Half an hour passed in no time and when John slipped back behind the counter of the bar, James had to actually check the clock. But no, John wasn’t too early. He was right on time, half an hour had passed exactly, and there was no way John would allow him to send him back to rest. A part of James didn’t want to. A part of him wanted to have John as close as possible and if it meant serving drinks, then be it so.

With a hand on the small of her back and a thankful smile, John sent Anica back to serving. With ease he took over the drink she had been making, filling her place seamlessly. James watched how he picked a bottle of Blue Curacao, added it to the shaker and started to mix. While watching, James forgot that he had own drinks to make, because John had to nudge him with the shoulder. His warm voice flew into James’ ear.

“Don’t get distracted old man.”

Looking back at his hands, James realized he was holding a bottle. With warm cheeks he resumed doing what he had been doing. The grin, though, couldn’t be removed from his face. He was glad that their kiss hadn’t changed the way they interacted with each other. A big part of what James loved about John was the way he knew how to tease him. Kiss or not, lovers or not, John was still James’ best friend.

John had changed back into his bartending outfit, with his dark trousers, black and white shirt, suspenders on and hair up to a messy bun. A few strands rolled around his ear. He looked endearing and whenever James had the chance he sneaked some glances. John caught him almost every time, but didn’t say anything, just smiled. It made James’ heart beat faster.

Time for much talking wasn’t though, because the guests had realized tonight’s dancer stood behind the bar, serving drinks. Just like James had anticipated, it created a run on he bar. Everyone wanted to have their own little piece of John and if it was just to brush his hand when taking their drinks out of his. James’ head swirled with all the people, drinks he served and money he took. He wondered if it had been that bad back then when it had been him dancing, but he couldn’t really remember. He had no time to remember. It was probably just John anyway.

It still didn’t escape his notice that John deflected every attempt of flirting with a smile. He wasn’t rude but very firm in making sure everyone got he was not interested. Most people took it with a stride, laughing and shrugging. Only a few seemed sincerely upset about being told off, but no one made a scene. Thankfully. Cause James had no idea what he would have done otherwise. He didn’t mind that people had seen John strip. He never had minded with Thomas and just couldn’t mind with John. Not when he had seen how much John had enjoyed it and how good he had been. He trusted him, James always had and always would. The kiss didn’t change it. Only strengthened that trust if anything. But to see someone forcing their attention on John... James better not thought about it.

Time flew, and the clock ticked the minutes away unnoticed. James reveled in every small brush of hands, in every seemingly accidental touch and every smile he shared with John. No matter it was one of the longest days of the week and the people didn’t seem to want to go, James couldn’t mind. He was so full of love, every last fiber in him felt blissfully happy.

After four the last guest was finally out of the door and James closed it behind them. He sacked a little against it, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was exhausted, tired and sweaty. Yet, he couldn’t really bother. Because he felt like he was walking on a cloud and everything in him felt wonderfully light. Before he could open his eyes again he felt hands at the sides of his face, brushing his beard. Thumps caressed his jaw, before he felt lips on his. Letting his hands wander into soft hair he pressed closer, deepening the kiss, breathing John in.

His heart had to jump out of his ribcage the way it sped up.

“Wow, seriously?”

James opened his eyes at the familiar bell-like voice sounding surprised. First, all he could see were stark blue eyes, looking into his. They sparkled amusedly, and John brushed his fingers over the corners of his mouth, giving James another peck, before he turned. It was then that James could see Anica staring at them, her mouth visibly turning into the biggest smirk he’d ever seen on her face. Cheeky thing.

“And I thought you two never manage that. Finally. Congrats,” she added. Her words made James flush heavily and even John’s cheeks seemed to color. Seemed their mutual crush had been obvious for everyone other than them two.

“I leave you to that,” Anica chided in, still grinning and attempting to turn but James called her back. His hands had wandered from John’s hair to his stomach, holding him close. He felt perfect between his legs, so close that James breath tousled his locks, as his chin rested on his head.

“We clean tomorrow. Tell the others, please? And thank you again for your help behind the bar.”

The bar was still a mess, they needed to wash all the glasses, at least sweep the floor and give the tables a good wet rub. But it had time until tomorrow. Tonight, James wanted only one thing and that was his bed, preferably with John in it, too.

“Whenever you need me, boss,” Anica replied and her grin softened before she vanished behind the corner, to tell the rest of the staff they could go home. Meanwhile John turned back to James, one eyebrow raised, his hands on James’ chest. He drew circles into his shirt absent-mindedly.

“So, now that we have an early night. To you or to me?”

He didn’t know why, but the words made James’ laugh. It started deep down in his stomach and bubbled up his throat until he couldn’t contain himself anymore. Tears sprung into his eyes and through the blur he could see John smile at him cheekily. Reaching for him blindly, James pressed his mouth onto John’s, kissed and kissed and kissed him until he run out of air and still he laughed. He had fallen for the best man.

It took a while to contain himself, but when James did, and John still looked at him questioningly, head tilted to the side, James couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Wherever you want to, as long as you take me with you.”

They decided that James’ flat was a tad closer than John’s.

* * *

James had made a final round, securing every door was locked, before he stepped outside. The cool night air washed over his face and he blinked against the neon lights of the city. It was never truly dark. There was always light, always noise, always something. Looking up he could make out stars only faintly. One day he had to take a day off and flee to the mountains. Have John next to him and paint constellations with their fingers in the air. His heart did a jump at the thought.

When he heard someone arguing his dreamy mood was washed away by concern. If he wasn’t mistaken it was John speaking, and he didn’t sound amused. James knew he was just around the corner, waiting for him.

“I said I’m not interested. Just fuck off.”

It definitely was John speaking and the harsh tone made James’ brow furrow. What the hell? He quickly locked the entrance door, then moved.

“On that stage you were very interested. ‘s not like someone’s here.”

James couldn’t place the other voice, but it sounded like a drunken man. Probably a customer. Shit. He’d always feared something like it, but hadn’t given it thought for a while, because his other dancers had never complained about being harassed. He sped up, rounding the corner to the street. A few steps away he saw John stand there, shoulders tense, back straight, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t seem to notice James coming.

The other man, a bit taller than James himself, was swaying even though he didn’t move. He looked like a regular customer, not very impressive. Brown hair, edgy face, tight jeans and dark jacket. A usual Saturday evening guest, only that he was currently harassing John. He leaned towards John as if they knew each other while John was leaning back, blood-shots in his eyes and gosh, was that an empty vodka bottle at his feet?

James usually made sure to not serve completely smashed people. The guy must have gotten the bottle from the nearby liquor store and dash it somewhere.

“I’m waiting for someone!” John said briskly, leaning further away. James sped up, just in time.

“n’ who’s that?” The words were more slurred by the second and just when he tried to reach out James gripped his wrist. Hard.

“Me!”

His tone was laced with a dangerous edge and it made the stranger startle visibly. He tried to get out of James’ grip, but James just squeezed a little harder, at the side of painful. He wanted this guy to remember his face and to fucking fear it. He’d have none of this shit in front of his club, or inside it, or nearby it. Ever.

“Lemme go,” the man demanded, and James just smirked dangerously. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw John sack a little, relieved.

“Oh, I will let you go. In a moment, when I have said my share.” Every word was clearly spoken. James wanted to be understood. He would do this for every member of his staff, but god beheld he definitely did this for John. He wouldn’t let anything happen to John, ever. Not if he could stop it from happening.

“Let go! Who are you anyway?” The guy tried to get out of the grip again, but he was too drunk, and James wasn’t weak either. There was a notch of fear in the man’s eyes. James’ smirk grew wider, wilder.

“I’m the owner of the bar you’ve just enjoyed your drinks and the show in. At least I hope you enjoyed it cause if I ever see you in the Rainbow again I’m calling the police. I have a clear no bullshit philosophy and you just bullied my best employee and my boyfriend. So, fuck off, before this gets out of hand. If someone tells you they’re not interested, they are in general, you know, not interested.”

With those words and a little shove for emphasis, James let the man go. He stumbled but didn’t fall. Shock was written on his face, but he bit back his words seeing the edge in James’ eyes and turned. James had rarely seen a man walk this fast without actually running.

“I hope I haven’t scared you.” He turned to John, who still hadn’t said anything. He looked a little startled but not afraid, which seemed like a good thing. His eyes darted from the man back to James, took him in, and then reached for his face. Letting it happen, James leaned down to make it easier for John to kiss him. John’s hands felt warm against the sides of his temples. James slung his own hands around John’s back, holding him close.

The kiss turned from desperate, wild and eager to soft. All the tension in John’s shoulders seemed to bleed out, and James could almost feel how John relaxed under his touch. Something left, some wall broke and while James didn’t know the reason, didn’t know what it meant, he was glad he had been there to help. To protect John from whatever nightmare had just tried to sneak back into his head.

“Boyfriend huh?” John smirked after they had let go. Immediately James flushed. It John chuckle.

“I didn’t… I… uhm.”

His stuttering seemed to only amuse John further because now he laughed outright and pressed a peck on James’ mouth, to silence him.

“I like the sound of it.” He paused, then whispered, as if to taste the sound of the word on his tongue, “Boyfriend.”

Lacing his fingers with John’s, James tugged the man forward. “Let’s go home. Boyfriend.”

John just grinned and followed James through the night filled city. Home.

* * *

  ** _\- roughly six months later -_**

“James, where to put the box?” John called into the flat, balancing one of the many boxes he had packed on one of his knees while pushing the door open. He still couldn’t believe he was moving in with the love of his life, even though his arms ached already from the exertion of carrying all the boxes from the car inside. Maybe he would, when he first slept next to James in his bed? Not that it was the first time. Actually, John had slept in James’ bed quite often the last few months. It was why they had decided that paying double rent was not worth it. Only that James – the romantic – had to make it all a bit cheesier.

John smiled when he remembered how James had woke him one morning, three weeks ago, brushing his face with his fingers delicately. He had kissed him deeply, John’s lids still heavy with sleep until all coherent thoughts had left him. Then he had rolled John onto him, propping him up and looking longingly into his eyes, before he had fished for something under the pillow. When that something appeared to be keys, John had thought James wanted to encourage him to use them, be able to come and go whenever he liked. Instead he had asked for John to move in with him. He hadn’t even had to think about it. Everything in John had screamed the yes and fortunately they both hadn’t been wearing clothes, so he had been able to express his joy and thankfulness with his whole body.

John was still so bloody in love with James, sometimes it was all too much, and he needed to pinch himself to realize it was real. In all his life he had wished for something stable, something worthwhile. In James and the Rainbow, he had found it.

Not that he had a hand free to pinch himself momentarily. Thankfully James appeared.

“What’s inside?”

“Toys, sharks. I have no idea,” John snorted, shifting the weight in his arms. Just by standing there the box became heavier and heavier. “Would you, please?”

James peered inside the box, lifting the lids, before he took it from John and walked towards the kitchen. “Almost as good as toys,” James mumbled, and John walked up to him to push open the kitchen door. Glancing at the box, he guessed it were his private bar tending utensil, including all the bottles of liquor and syrup he owned. Bartending was more than just his job, it was his passion and John liked to be able to create a cocktail whenever he liked, despite not doing it outside of his job often. As if to prove his guess the insides clinked together like only bottles did.

Propping the box on the workspace, James didn’t waste time and opened the box. A grin appeared on his face when he fished out a bottle of rum. “Fancy. Didn’t know you had one of those at home,” he said and turned so John could see his favorite brand of rum shimmer in the light. John shrugged.

“If you’re nice to me, I might let you take a try.” He knew his voice was lewd and James rose to it immediately. He walked up to John, bottle still in hand, and wrapped his arms around his torso. The bottle felt cold through his shirt.

“Gonna sip it out of the dip in your throat.”

The smirk on James’ face was a downright tease and John gulped hard at the prospect. He hadn’t thought of it before, but god now the image stuck in his mind. A shudder rushed through him and he had to steal a kiss. Their lips brushed against each other, familiar and wonderful. Mumbling against them, John whispered, “I hold you up to that.”

Laughing lowly, James released him, and John had to suppress a pout. Yet, there were still boxes in his car wanting to be unloaded. Work first, fun later. Or something like it. Turning, John walked towards the door, but before he made it far, James held him back. His fingers brushed softly over his shoulder.

“There’s a contract on the sitting room table you need to sign. I’m getting the other boxes,” James said casually. Frowning, John opted for the mentioned room, instead of outside.

“If this is another insurance that needs my new address I’m going to kill them all.” He had no idea how many forms he had filled out in the last two weeks, stating that, yes, he wasn’t leaving the country, just moved a few blocks.

“It’s not,” James called behind him, and then added, as if it was an afterthought. “Oh, and can you give me a dollar?”

Halting at the words, John turned back, reaching for his purse unintentionally. “What do you need a dollar for?” Yet, he already had fished one out and gave it over. James took it and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. Without answering, he leaned closer and placed a peck on John’s mouth.

“I love you.”

Drawing back, James walked up to the floor, showing his broad back. The wonderous expression on John’s face turned into a smile. Warmth filled him, and he shook his head. Sometimes James was a mystery even to him, but John didn’t mind. It was good that he didn’t fully understand all of James’ actions. It kept the flame between them alight. After all they saw each other almost twenty-four hours a day.

“I love you, too, you fool,” John mumbled to no one particular before he finally made his way to the sitting room. There on the couch table was the mentioned contract, the papers neatly stacked like James used to doing. Even a pen lay on top of it and for a moment John just thought of signing it without reading. Yet, his common sense told him not to.

Reaching for the papers, he let himself fall into the soft cushions of the couch. His eyes ran over the words, reading. With each word his back became tenser and his hands shivered more, until he sat ramrod straight. When he was done, John had to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He clumsily placed the papers back on the table top, turning when he heard noise filtering in from the hallway. A moment later James appeared, another box in his arms. When he saw John’s expression though he sat it aside.

John waited until the box was secured, before he spoke. His voice wavered.

“I want my dollar back.”

“No,” James answered too fast, voice a notch too high and hand darting to the pocket he had secured the dollar in. John sighed.

“James you can’t do this. I’m not signing this.”

He searched for James’ gaze and found the familiar green eyes. They flickered around before they settled on his, and John finally managed to keep them steady. There was a certain kind of determination in them that John knew would make it hard to argue against. James was set on this. The realization shook John to the core.

“I just did,” James stated, crossed his arms. Of course, he would be a stubborn ass. It was part of what made him into the person he was. John loved him for it. But this. He realized he still shook slightly.

“I can’t. I mean it’s your dream. It’s yours and Thomas’… James, you can’t just give me half of the Rainbow. It’s not my place.”

The words, however sincerely spoken they were, only seemed to make James snort. John watched him walk up to him and every step filled him with dread. Yet, James only plopped down next to him on the couch and laced their fingers together. When he turned, John fell deep into the open expression on James’ face, like one would fall from a cliff into the ocean. His breath hitched. It felt like he was looking into the sea, the green of James’ eyes so warm and engulfing.

“Thomas wanted the Rainbow to be a testament of love. For everyone to come in and be able to express their true nature, their true feelings, sexuality and relationships. We made it into that. But without you it would have gone down after Thomas’ death. He would have wanted for you to own the half. I want it. You already basically do, John. You’re in every decision, in every process. It’s as much your dream by now as it’s mine.”

Tears sprung into John’s eyes and he already knew he was helpless to protest any further. Yet…

“Also, I didn’t simply give it to you, I sold it. For one dollar. Which you’re not going to get back.”

A bubble of laughter made it through the blur of tears, until they solely consisted of acheful bliss. With the back of his hand John cleared his line of vision and surged for James’ mouth. Their kiss was first sloppy but turned more steady and heady with the second. Gripping for James’ shirt John tried to draw him closer, get his fingers under the fabric to feel skin. Then he had an idea and drew back. James, cheeks flushed, looked at him puzzled. Before he could ask, John spoke his mind.

“Strip for me.”

“What? No!”

James’ cheeks turned even redder and John smirked at him, then, out of instinct, straddled his lap. He leaned down, lips only inches away from James. James’ breath lingered on his skin and he could breathe him in as he spoke, “Strip for me and I sign your contract.”

With a moan, James tried to shove him from his lap, but John didn’t relent. Instead he tugged at James’ shirt, tried to move it upwards. “Come on.”

“That is shameless bribing.” James squirmed under John’s touch, which only sparked his intentions and actions. He slipped his fingers under the fabric of James’ blue shirt, drew circles into his chest.

“I know.”

“You’ll wait until Saturday like everyone else.” James sounded stern, but it did nothing to quell John’s ministrations. The spark in James’ eyes helped as well to keep on nudging. While John could wait for Saturday he wanted a taste of James’ skills all for himself.

While Nico hadn’t gotten the job after the initial assessment center that had led to John’s show, he had been offered a different one only two weeks ago. It had been his last show the last Saturday, and until they found a replacement John and James had agreed to take turns dancing. It started with James on the next Saturday. Since then John had constantly begged to get a taste of what everyone would see, and James had told him off each time. He would see on Saturday. John hated to wait till Saturday. He wanted his boyfriend – he still loved the term, only occasionally though that the term husband would sound even better – to strip for him only beforehand.

It wasn’t about jealousy. People could watch as much as they wanted. Only he was allowed to touch James whenever. He could feel his kisses, knew how it was to be intimate with him, share a bed, a breath, one body. It wasn’t about jealousy. It was only about John’s impatience really and the need to see, to feel, to experience this wonderful body again and again.

“You said you needed practice,” John teased, while he tried to create some friction, pressing his groin into James’ crotch. The shudder than run through James sent sparks flying over John’s skin, too.

“I never said that.” Again, James tried to shove John down, but he didn’t really put effort into it. If he wanted he would be able to, but he only pushed at John weakly. It made John smirk and he leaned down, bit into James’ upper lip playfully.

“Please?”

“Oh, fuck you,” James growled at the bite-kiss and suddenly John could feel fingers dig into his arms before he was manhandled. With ease James shifted them both around and John even squeaked as he was placed onto the couch. His breath left him, when James bit into his ear. “Sign that fucking contract, little shit.”

Then James stood and walked over to his stereo. John watched him intently. When the first tunes of Samantha Fox’s _Touch me_ filled the room, he reached for the pen, grinning.

 


End file.
